Mealtimes and Milestones (6 page)

In the evening with my feed, everything just developed into a collection of uncontrollable emotions, and I couldn’t deal with it. I tried to stand up and tug the tube out of the
nurse’s hand, but I couldn’t and she kept on tubing my feed in. I pleaded with her through my tears to stop, but she didn’t.

‘Please, please stop . . . what if I don’t want to live?’ I screamed at her. She didn’t respond.

I was put on observation again. I went out of the feeding room and tried to lock myself in the bathroom, but the nurse caught me too quickly. I was howling with frustration, completely
distraught, and was trying to retaliate against her. I wanted her to leave me alone. I want to evaporate and be forgotten about. I was begging her to leave me alone. Another member of staff then
came in and calmed me down. I don’t really know why I went like that. I guess I am so frustrated with myself. I hate myself, and I hate this illness. It has captured me in its grasp, and it
is never going to let me go. I’m better off dead.

Saturday 8 September

My parents visited me today and everything was going really well until lunch. The agreement was that as long as I was up to date with food by lunch, whether orally or by
tube, I could go out with my parents in the afternoon. After lunch I was down for a glass of Ribena and a glass of water. The nurse measured out 500 ml of water, we were about to go in for the
feed, when another member of staff collared me and said that I had to be up to date with calories before I could go out, and therefore refused to let me be tubed the Ribena. So she made me go back
for twenty-five minutes and sit until I drank the Ribena.

One side of me just wanted to drink it because I desperately wanted to go out with my parents, but the other wasn’t sure whether four hours out was worth drinking it for, because it makes
everything inside me so much worse. By choosing to drink I am taking sides, and disrupting my ‘being neutral’ plan.

I finally drank my Ribena, and then had the water tubed. My parents by now had now been waiting for well over half an hour. When I came out to join them a torrent of tears streamed down my face
and on to my dad and I was crying, ‘It’s not fair, it’s just not fair!’

One thing that we had been working on in family therapy was that they should give me space to be able to say that I wasn’t OK, and that I wasn’t in the mood to be happy all the time.
So in the car I explained why I was crying. It was a real breakthrough for me, and in the end we had a great time out, and it really helped me to see that persistence does pay off.

Sunday 9 September

I spoke on the phone today to one of my greatest friends, who moved away in July. We just talked and gossiped about anything and everything! It really cheered me up. It
was so incredible to talk, and it is one of those phone calls that I will never forget.

Monday 10 September

In my key session we did something quite different. We went upstairs and used the drum kit to see if I could try and express myself that way. My key worker gave me
different feelings or situations and I had to transfer these on to the drums. Examples included guilt, hope, the two voices in my head and depression. Things like guilt were large, strident sounds.
Hope was very quiet, almost a non-existent tinkle. For depression there wasn’t a noise. It was just a blank silence. It makes me feel empty inside. It hasn’t got a beat or a melody.
It’s a continuous desolate space inside me.

It was really interesting and helpful, because it made me see which emotions are stronger and it was a different form of expression from trying to explain in words.

Tuesday 11 September

In family therapy we talked about the death of my grandfather. For me, there has always been a great mystery behind it. I came to my own conclusion recently – that
he died in our guest bedroom – but my mum always denied it.

He was staying with us because I wanted to show him my new junior school, so he had come down for a couple of nights. In the morning I was a bit surprised that he wasn’t at breakfast and
wondered why my other grandparents took me to school, but I didn’t question it – I was only seven or eight at the time. In the afternoon when my parents picked me up from school they
told me that Granddad had died that day on the way to the hospital in an ambulance.

In family therapy today I was told the truth – that he did actually die in his sleep in our guest room. Mum had found him dead in the morning, and she wanted to protect me, and
didn’t want me to see his body. Although it was hard to hear this, I am pleased that I finally know the truth and the reason for the redecoration of that room and the new bed. I totally
understand why they did it, yet they still lied to me – and perhaps I am more resilient than they think? But why can’t I be more resilient to anorexia?

Wednesday 12 September

The issue around NG feeds was around quite a lot because there are now four people on NG tubes. Feeds can be quite distressing for some people and so it has to be done in
the quiet room for safety. Even so, Enlive tends to get splattered around the walls and other members of the young people’s group are quite annoyed about it, because the quiet room is
supposed to be a place where you can go and just be calm, but when someone’s in there being tubed it’s not tranquil, and even if you go in there afterwards you can’t be tranquil
because you get a real sense of someone’s pain, struggle and distress, which isn’t at all comforting.

In Community Meeting
²¹
we talked about why four people were on the tube. I feel quite cross, though, because I was the only one of the four who spoke, and
I’m not even one of the people who struggles or retaliates. Someone asked me why I felt I needed to be on a tube, and I replied, ‘Because it is a way of punishing myself. I don’t
deserve to drink and nourish myself because I hate myself so much, everything about me.’ I then started to cry.

I was upset for three reasons:

This evening, though, I found out that my friend is coming to see me at the weekend, which has made me so excited! However, this excitement is clouded by anorexia. I hate
anorexia. It isn’t an attention-seeking act. It isn’t a faddy diet. It is a desperate cry for help. People outside don’t understand. If I didn’t have to go through this I
wouldn’t. I just want it to go away. I want the voice to stop talking – but it won’t. It won’t leave me alone.

Friday 14 September

In the third part of Friday Group, one of the therapists said how courageous I was in sharing how I felt in Community Meeting, and how heartbreaking it was that I feel the
need to punish myself. I didn’t think about it much at the time, but during snacks I began to cry. I was still upset and frustrated with the illness. I want to move on but don’t know
how to. I guess I am also a tiny bit proud that someone has acknowledged how challenging, and what an important step, it was for me to expose my genuine feelings – and maybe because I feel
proud, I don’t know how to cope with that feeling, because I haven’t felt that in such a long time. It was the most minuscule amount, but even so the non-deserving-guilt feeling seemed
to come rushing back to me.

Saturday 15 September

In the afternoon with my parents we went to a nearby city. The first place we visited was the cathedral. It was really beautiful, and it felt quite important for me to be
there because I missed church last week, and I’m going to miss it tomorrow too. There was a board in the cathedral where people could write up their own prayers, and Mum wrote a prayer for
all the staff in the unit, saying, ‘May they protect and surround all the children with love and support.’

We then went into a beautiful park. I just loved being in such a wide open space, because I often feel quite confined being in hospital the whole time.

Next, we went to a museum. While we were there Dad and I built an arch out of foam bricks. It was really great to have a bit of a laugh with my dad, just playing and having some fun, because I
think that he often feels a bit left out.

The only hard thing was when we were walking back through the park there was a cross-country run on. It made me think about what I’m missing out on and how much this illness is holding me
back, but yet, why don’t I want to let go of it?

I’m like a balloon, I’m all the air inside trying to get out, I’m pushing against the walls of the balloon, the anorexia. I just want to pop out and be free, but I’m not
able to find the energy to pop the balloon and beat anorexia once and for all.

Sunday 16 September

I was so excited that my friend was coming today, I just couldn’t wait. When she walked through the door I just felt such a relief. We hugged and hugged and my eyes
started to well up. I realized just how much I had missed her and everyone at school, and how much was being taken away from me by anorexia. I want to be free like her.

We just talked and talked and talked, and through one person I felt connected with everyone at school, and it reassured me that I wasn’t being forgotten about. The laughter that we shared
seemed to penetrate my sorrow and release all of the pain inside me.

Before she left we had a debrief with my key worker. We discussed how we thought the day had gone, and we all agreed that it had been really positive. My friend asked me how much I wanted her to
say to people at school. I said that I don’t mind how much she says because I just think that it is a fact – it’s a reality – I am in an in-patient hospital with an NG tube.
I would worry also that if people didn’t know the truth then it would be exaggerated at school.

Saying goodbye was really hard, when we were hugging I just didn’t want to let go. I didn’t want to let go of this personification of hope, but I didn’t cry because I was
worried that the staff would then think that it is a bad idea for friends to visit me.

Despite this sadness within myself I managed lunch after my friend had gone, and I was able to stay up to date for the whole day. My friend represented hope and something clicked inside me. I
didn’t feel that I could eat for myself yet, but today I did it for my friends at home. I guess the next step is eating for myself, but that’s only when I decide to believe that I
deserve to nourish myself.

Thursday 20 September

It was agreed in my core team meeting today that I could have two friends to visit me this weekend. I really believe that this is the motivation
that I need to come off the tube.

Saturday 22 September

In the afternoon with my parents we went into the local town and as a treat I was allowed to go to a beauty salon. I had my hair cut and my nails painted.

I really do appreciate the treatments but I can’t help but feel guilty. I feel like I don’t deserve it. I know deep, deep, deep down that I do, but I need to work on trying to bring
these thoughts to the surface.

Sunday 23 September

My anticipation waiting for my friends to arrive was almost unbearable!

I was surprised, though, that I didn’t feel very apprehensive about them seeing me with my tube. I think it’s because last week it was all OK with my other friend. Even though I
didn’t feel too self-conscious with them, it was still strange because it’s an anorexic status symbol, and I’m proud of this. My anorexia makes me feels good; it admires me and
praises me for succeeding in being a good anorexic. It’s a companion to me and a friend. It understands me better than anyone can because it’s inside me. It always knows how I feel and
how to resolve any of my imbalances. I’m so caught up within this powerful and overwhelming illness.

My friends brought a teddy bear which we named Hope. Also a card signed by the whole of my year. I really appreciate both of these because I do worry that people will have moved on at school
when I eventually go back, and that they will have forgotten about me, but this really put my worries aside and reassured me.

When they left it was really, really hard because I wanted to try and stay positive because I had had such a good time. I had laughed and laughed and laughed, and I didn’t want to let go
of that laughter and sense of fun, but it all just got too much and everything just seemed to escalate out of control and I went back to my coping mechanism of starvation. It wasn’t just that
they had left, it was other things as well. I was really cross with myself for still being on the tube. I wanted to be liberated, but the illness just won’t let me go. As well as that, my
periods returned at the start of this week. Although I am relieved, it symbolizes that I am putting on weight and getting healthier, which of course isn’t what the voice wants, and it seems
to be punishing me mentally for this:

‘This is what they are doing to you. They have put the weight on you that has made your periods start. You are following the people who are making you fat . . . why are you doing
this?’

My key worker decided to have an impromptu key session to talk about why I was so distressed. We both lay down on the grass and practised relaxation techniques such as listening to the wind and
the leaves. It was good to try and unwind, however I couldn’t stop crying for the rest of the day, and by the evening I was completely sobbing my eyes out. They are still bloodshot.